The Crimson Pride
by WTF123
Summary: "War is peace, "freedom is slavery, and ignorance is knowledge." As a bloody conflict ravages the Pride Lands and its inhabitants, several nations will stand out and fight for what's left of their beliefs, all of them linked by blood, pain, death and suffering at the hand of the tide of war. My first humanized fanfic, and my first 5-way writing collaboration.


_"Men like to think themselves superior, but they are not anything more than frivolous beasts. They battle, they mate, they claim, and they bathe in blood. A man is no different from one another as they are from a hound."_

_-Lieutenant General Christopher "Bad Dog" Braddock_

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**Author's Note: This story is a very special collaboration between myself and several of my close friends over Kik and iFunny. I'd like to thank ThatTexasKid, Haraka97, Akili18, KovusDarkSoul, and thelionkingfan for all coming together and helping to write all of this. They've all been great in planning this out, and I very much look forward to writing more with them in the future. That makes this the largest collaboration I've ever done, so this won't have quite as much of my work in it as other things I've uploaded. **

**The Lion King and its characters belong to Walt Disney Studios, this was written strictly for entertainment.**

**In any case, I hope you all enjoy the first humanized fanfic on my profile!**

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_In the wake of the defeat of King Scar the Tyrant, the new king, Simba von Alavar, immediately found a new host of problems. In the western Prideland city of Aldaria, a new movement was born. The Prideland Republican Movement, tired of kings and royal wars, pledged not to cease their actions until they had a nation. Loyalists to Scar had moved into the outlands, where they started to form an army against the Pridelands, only requiring a leader now. No one would be spared. One year after the death of Scar, the PRM, still young and vulnerable, decided to attack the heart of Pride Rock in order to make their presence known, their cause heard, and a legacy that history will never forget..._

In central Africa, it is an abnormality for cold weather to occur, however, this July day, the weather was indeed cold, but this did not affect the commuters inside the Mohuatu Memorial Subway Station in Pride Rock. The place was filled with hundreds of commuters coming and going, on their way to attend business of their own. The dim lights surrounded the entirety of the station, the air within it was cold and bitter, especially for this time of year. The sounds of subway trains moving across the rail lines could faintly be heard from either side of the tunnel rail line. There were various commuters standing beside the support beams of the station, most of them looking annoyed at having to wait so long for their train. A few of them were carrying bags or suitcases, one was holding a cigarette in his left hand (blatantly ignoring the 'no smoking' sign nearby), and another person close to him was constantly checking her watch to make sure she wouldn't be late to her destination again. The subway still came and went, just a usual, but all this was about to change. A young man dressed in a trench coat looked oddly out of place, yet for how the cool crisp air was underground, no one batted an eye. The young man looked around and smirked. He knew that within a few minutes, the cool, crisp air would be broken with chaos and death; with a massacre never known to Prideland history.

The young man's smirk remained upon his face as he carefully removed the ruffled trenchcoat from his body, revealing a large tattoo written in dark red that said, 'No Gods, No Kings, No Mercy'. His eyes quickly darted to another man on the other side of room, glaring at him intensely for a moment. The young man gave a nod, as if totally unaware of what was about to happen. The other man returned the sly nod. He quietly pulled what seemed to look like a small remote from his pocket. Taking a hefty breath for a moment, he narrowed his eyes and and immediately pressed a dusty black button upon it. And in that instant, it all changed in the blink of an eye. A tremendous, roaring explosion burst out from beneath the rails of the station's platform, shattering the windows, doors and sides of an oncoming subway car. Thousands of scalded shards of flesh, metal and glass flew away from the explosion and into the innocent bystanders around it. Iron shards of the railways flew forth, impaling several who were unfortunate enough to be in its way. The sound of this was deafening enough, but it grew even worse with the piercing sounds of horrified shrieks and cries of terror from the mortally wounded. Shattered pieces of glass flew into people's bodies, red-hot iron bars knocked the life out of others, and the fireball of the explosion had caused hundreds to die almost instantly. It was as if hell itself had just been voluntarily unleashed upon this single subway station.

Both of the men's smirks grew wider at the sight of the explosion, feeling grateful that they had been standing far enough from the fireball to avoid most of the shrapnel. They each pulled out their own MK-42 assault rifles from a holster on each of their backs and started firing at the crowds of people fleeing from the previous explosion. Then another explosion happened at one of the two exits to the station stairs, preventing any escape for the terrified citizens of the Pridelands. Then, a third explosion occurred at the second entrance. Everyone was trapped, nowhere to run or hide. Suddenly, a booming voice came over the intercom, "Citizens of the Pridelands, even though Simba and Scar appear to be quite different, they share one common attribute. They both have failed you. You do not wish to live in a world of authority and monarch. What you want, is a world of liberty and prosperity. Now, if you disagree with the previous, you are an infidel, and a traitor to the cause. Those of you who already are members of the Prideland Republican Movement, show us your tattoo, and you may leave. Those of you who are not have only two options; join the PRM, or suffer the consequences." The two men had come together in front of the destroyed subway car and were suddenly joined by a small group of men and women, from all class types, each carrying some form of a gun. One of them even had on a suicide vest on, just in case the police members or Prideland special military forces dug them out faster than they predicted.

"All with PRM tattoos representing membership please step forward and show them to us."

In the crowd of about two hundred remaining civilians, twenty-three of them slowly stepped forward, and removed their sleeves, revealing tattoos that stated 'No Gods, No Kings, No Mercy'.

The group of attackers all smiled, and the original young man spoke in a pleased tone. "You may go free."

There was a universal sigh of relief among the lucky twenty three as they scurried out of the subway station under the guard of the PRM. The young man returned to his one hundred seventy seven remaining captives, excluding children.

"In order to escape death, how many of you will swear an oath of loyalty to the republic?"

A young man in the crowd smiled, and stepped forward. He had the brightest blue eyes, sparkling with joy and enthusiasm. His teeth were a sparkling white, he had dark brown hair, and a small goatee. He was tall, and very thin, but muscular.

"Name, sir?"

"Daniel Evans."

The PRM leader smirked, and spoke softly. "Repeat after me: I, Daniel Evans, swear my life and body in service to the Prideland Republican Movement. I am joyfully willing and able to die for the cause. Any violation of my oath will result in execution for treason, so help me liberty."

"Repeat after me: I, Daniel Evans, swear my life and body in service to the Prideland Republican Movement. I am joyfully willing and able to die for the cause. Any violation of my oath will result in execution for treason, so help me liberty."

"Phenomenal job Evans, you may now be escorted out of the premises."

The young officer then gave a signal to his comrades, and they removed children from their parents and moved them off to the side. When this was completed, they pointed their weapons at the adults, who, previously silent, were now screaming in terror.

The screaming would soon be replaced by the cries of children.

The bullets came out like a storm from the forces of the Prideland Republican Movement. They screeched through the air like a banshee giving birth. They struck their targets with unimaginable force and power, the likes of which had never been seen.

Hundreds of bodies collapsed to the ground in front of the platform with a loud thud. The tracks were coated red with fresh blood. And oh yes, did the innocent children cry. They cried long and loud. However, there was one adult that did not die in the massacre. She survived, and not only did she survive, she had survived unharmed.

Zira Braddock, the exiled former queen of the Pridelands. Her brown-black hair was short but magnificent, and her golden eyes sparkled as she eyed a baby.

It was pale, but large, and had emerald green eyes like that of her dead lover, the tyrant Scar himself.

Zira Braddock quietly picked up the child and snuck out of the station.

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As the day drew to a close, the situation couldn't have possibly contrasted more with king Simba Von Alavar of the Pride Lands, who was currently within his ornately decorated office and at his gold-plated desk, just finishing up crucial paperwork concerning his own matters. As he sighed and signed his name on one last document for the day, he reflected on how there had not been any major problems during the day. In fact, it was quite the opposite: He had finally discovered that his wife, queen, and love of his life, Nala, was now pregnant with their second child. With each passing moment, Simba's excitement for seeing them born grew ever more. Setting his papers aside, he looked behind him to the large, freshly cleaned windows as warm, golden sunlight from the late afternoon streamed in. He sighed and smiled, looking beyond the palm trees ahead of his view. Simba remembered just how much joy had surged all throughout him when his firstborn son, Kopa, had first come into being. Now he was going to have a chance to relive such a wonderful experience once more.

Just as the king was letting his happy thoughts aimlessly meander further onward, however, he was interrupted when he heard a slow knocking come from the large, wooden doors ahead of him. He shook his head and snapped back into reality.

"Who is it?" He asked, sounding somewhat tired after such a day. But without receiving an answer, he watched as an attendant walked glumly into the office, and his face carried an expression even more glum than his walk. Simba raised an eyebrow.

"Your Majesty." The attendant said solemnly. Simba looked up at the attendant, a puzzled expression on his face.

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

The attendant sighed and looked away from Simba, unable to bear making eye contact with the king at this time. "Something's happened, your majesty. It happened at the Mohatu Memorial Subway just today."

Simba slowly began to stand up from his chair now, his levels of concern beginning to rise. "What's happened there? Tell me!" He said.

The attendant shut his eyes. "There… there was a massacre there just hours ago. We're still getting reports of dead or missing civilians at the site.

Simba's eyes widened immediately, standing up straight as could be now. "W… what?"

"We believe it was orchestrated by forces associated with the recent Prideland Republican Movement, your majesty. One hundred and seventy six reports of casualties so far, and many others are missing. We've begun a search to see if we can… recover them."

King Simba's face felt as though it were about to collapse, and he immediately dropped his papers down onto his desk. "No… no, this can't be!" He said, his voice becoming hoarse. His day had been officially ruined. _Those damn rebels!_ He thought to himself as he fingered the cross on his neck, and sighed. Only God could help him through this strife now.


End file.
